


A Spider Never Sleeps

by Messofabookreader



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), BAMF Peter Parker, Bully Flash Thompson, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Peter Parker is a Mess, Teen Peter Parker, canon villain mentions, there are cliches and I'm not sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27854794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Messofabookreader/pseuds/Messofabookreader
Summary: There a lot to juggle when you're a teen vigilante and highschooler, and Peter Parker knows that well. When a new villain appears in New York, with a grudge against Spider-Man, Peter's secrets are closer than ever to finally be revealed.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33





	1. Kill 'em with Kindess!

Peter didn’t know how he managed his life so well.

School took up his day-time, and his vigilante escapades took up the majority of his nights, so sleep was practically non-existent. Thankfully, it seems the mutant powers from the spider helped him on this, as spiders do not actually ‘sleep’, they just go into a pseudo-hibernation of sorts (it’s true he looked it up), so surviving on 1-2 hours of sleep a night didn’t totally destroy his ability to function. Unfortunately, his ability to stay awake for most of the hours of the day doesn’t help him wake up with his alarm in the mornings.

He blinks his eyes groggily, the alarm beeping and buzzing from its location across the room. Why he thought it was a good idea to put his alarm away from his bed, he will never know. In his daily routine of staring at his ceiling for a good minute or so, contemplating his life choices before hauling himself out of bed to turn off the stupid alarm clock, he fails to remember that he didn’t escape from the night's patrol unscathed.

Peter winces, a hand hovering over his ribs where a villain had taken a stab at the night before throbs. He grits his teeth, finally turning off the alarm, and hobbles over to the bathroom. Lifting up his shirt, he’s glad to see the cut is already starting to heal, and it’s much smaller than when he had fallen into bed only mere hours before.

“Peter, you up?” his Aunt May calls, jerking his out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m up,” he shouts back.

“Good, your alarm was ringing for forever Pete, I was getting worried.” He knew she was joking, he could hear the laugh in her voice, but he still felt the familiar stab of guilt whenever his vigilante adventures bleed into his civilian life.

By the time he stumbled downstairs, hair untamed and his eyes still blurry, Aunt May is almost out the door. She pauses though, giving him a quick peck on his forehead.

“Be good today. I’ll be out late, I’ve got drinks with coworkers after work, so I left a 20 on the fridge for dinner.”

He laughs, “Thank goodness, for a moment I worried you’d have something in the fridge for me.”

As one they shudder, remembering the last meal Aunt May tried to cook. They hadn’t been able to get the smell of burnt pasta out of the apartment for a week. Peter was the one who cooked, even though he didn’t do it much anymore because of homework.

...________...

The ride to school was easy and relatively uncrowded, always a plus when riding the subway. By the time he got into school, he almost felt like whistling. He texted Ned as he entered the building, spider-sense allowing him to look at his phone while avoiding other students.

To: Ned

Where r u?

Peter walked to his locker as he waited for Ned to respond. Typically, it didn’t take long, it wasn’t like they had many other friends to talk to.

From: Ned

By the lockers. Like usual. I still don’t know y u text me this every day, we always meet here

To: Ned

Yesterday we met by the science classroom tho

From: Ned

That was one time! Literally all last week we met here

He can see Ned now, and his head is hidden by the locker door. He reaches forward, hands on Ned’s shoulders.

“Boo!”

Ned’s shriek attracts curious eyes, but they turn away when they realize who it was.

“Don’t _do_ that,” he hisses, shutting the locker door slightly to look at Peter.

Peter grins, “Don’t do what?”

Ned rolls his eyes, “You’re not fooling anybody Pete, I don’t know how you’ve got the whole school convinced your some nerdy kid,” he turns, finger pointing at Peter’s face, “I know the truth! You are the devil in disguise! A combination of all the horror in the world, designed to torment me! I don’t know what I did to deserve you in this life, but whatever it is, I repent! I’m sorry!”

“Whatcha sorry for, freak,” a voice sneers from behind Peter. “You’re existence?”

Peter makes eye contact with Ned, who rolls his eyes. He can feel a hand start to approach his shoulder, and slowly enough that it seems plausible that a mere high schooler could have avoided the hand, he turns to Flash.

“Please don’t touch me,” Peter says. “And don’t speak to Ned that way, or I’ll get a teacher. I’m not afraid to snitch.”

Had he never have gotten his powers, Peter doubts he would have been able to say anything to Flash at all, but now, with super strength flowing through his body, and a whole city (more or less, he is a vigilante after all) behind him and his mask, it’s different. He still can’t do anything physically with Flash, it would be unfair, not to mention it would go against everything he stood for as a hero. Flash was a bully and a terrible person, yes, but it was Peter he picked on the most, and Peter could take it. So it took a different route to manage Flash now. Killing him with kindness!

Flash narrowed his eyes, his face going an interesting shade of red. “Snitch and see what happens to you, _Penis_. Nobody will believe you, and anyone who does won’t stand by you long.”

Another thing that came from Peter’s power. He could tell when Flash was bluffing, putting on a show in front of his lackey’s. It was true, Flash would probably get away with it, his father being a large contributor to their school and all, but in terms of punishment if Peter did actually ever go to a teacher…Peter could laugh. Anything Flash did to him would feel like child’s play compared to what he dealt with nightly. But Peter knew that it wasn’t only him who’d get punished, Flash might turn to Ned or any other unlucky student who dared look his way, and that was unacceptable.

“One day, Flash, your daddy’s money isn’t going to be enough. See who sticks by you then. See you in class.”

With that, he grabs Ned’s shoulder and hustles them away. When they’re far enough away, he lets out a little chuckle, when Ned turns to him with wide eyes.

“Okay, on a good day he just talks down to us and leaves, why’d you say anything?” Ned asks.

Peter’s laugh turns a little hysterical. _Why did he say anything?_ He tried to avoid acting completely different from the Peter of freshman year who was still powerless. “I don’t know, Ned. Hopefully, that doesn’t bite me in the butt later.”

Ned shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re something, aren’t you,” then he sniggers. “did you see Flash’s face when you mentioned his dad? It was hilarious, I’ll laugh at that for ages.”

“That was pretty great, wasn’t it.”

Peter’s too busy laughing to remember the time, and the bell for the start of class rings through the hallways. It takes effort to not wince, the high-pitched sound drilling holes in his ears. Somehow though, Ned notices.

“You okay, Pete?”

“Yeah, ‘course. Though we had more time before class though, I don’t want to see Flash so soon!” he whines, watching Ned out of the corner of his eye. Ned seems to accept his excuse though, and together, they walk to class.


	2. Obstacle Course of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter annoys Flash even though Flash wins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, tbh I haven't gone to a P.E. class in a hot minute, so this isn't probably that accurate lol.

Students are still filing in by the time Peter and Ned take their seats. They’re next to each other, thankfully, because their teacher assigns seats in this class, and Peter dreads the day where he’s assigned to be in a table group with Flash. But he’s with Ned so he’s happy.

History is boring, and halfway through the lecture, his hand’s already aching. Looking around the classroom, he can see other students half asleep or with their phones out. Part of him feels bad for the teacher, who remains oblivious to the utter lack of attention she’s receiving from the class, but the other part continues to not care. But he has to take notes, he doesn’t have time to spare to catch up.

Finally, the class is over, and Peter’s hand feels like it’ll fall off. Next is gym class, which is both a curse and a blessing. He doesn’t have to go very hard every, his super strength and abilities allow him to complete the mere high school gym class with ease. However, it’s yet another class with Flash, and this year, Ned isn’t with him, so he’s stuck alone with Flash for an hour.

He changes in the stall as usual, in part to hide his almost healed stab wound, and also to hide the fact that he isn’t the same scrawny freshman the rest of the class expects. Baggy clothes do a lot to hide his muscles!

Peter emerges from the stall, clothes in hand, and opens his locker to put them in. As he’s closing it, he feels a presence behind him. Knowing that ducking would only attract more attention than it’s worth, he resigns himself to Flashes heavy hand.

 _What is it about Flash and lockers?_ He wonders as Flash drones on.

“Are you even listening to me, Parker?” Flash sneers.

Peter blinks, a “What?” escaping his lips before he could hold it back.

Flash pushes him, and his back slams into the lockers, a loud ringing filling the locker room. The other boys turn to look at them, but they don’t interfere. The unfortunate reality of high school; nobody’s willing to risk their backs for another.

“Don’t even _think_ about going to a teacher, Penis. What are they going to do to you? Stop me?” Flash laughs, and it’s an ugly sound, too loud and high pitched for Peters's ears this close.

He holds in a wince, “Whatever Flash, your secrets safe with me.” And wow isn’t he feeling cheeky today. Peter must still be holding a grudge against the guy with the knife from the night before.

Flash slams him one more time before backing off. The locker rooms almost empty now, the only other boys being Flashes cronies and some curious watchers.

Peter watches Flash leave and locks his locker. He wonders if Flash is what some of the villains he’s fought had been like when they were in high school. Mean, bitter, and able to bully the weak. Then he revises his thoughts. While he’s sure there are many villains like Flash, most of the villains he fights are those like Peter. Angry at the system for failing them, taking the power they didn’t have when they were young for themselves. Flash had money, so he’d probably grow up and work at his father's company and continue to bully those with less power than him.

As Peter leaves the locker room, he almost laughs. Sometimes it feels as if he’s ages older than his peers. The things he’s supposed to worry about, grades, high school, bullies, seem trivial compared to the things he’s witnessed when he’s suited up. He shakes his head, pushing those thoughts out. Now’s not the time to be having an existential crisis. Save that for lunchtime and Ned.

He gathers with the rest of the class in the center of the gym, watching the teacher. He can see the teacher’s hand hesitate over the whistle, almost as if he wants to blow it, before shouting at them instead. They’re already gathered, so the whistle would be useless.

“Alright, today we’re going to do an obstacle course. We’ll go in groups of four, two first, then 15 seconds later the second two. We’ll be comparing your final times against the entire class. And in two weeks we’ll be doing this again to see if your personal time can be beaten. Those who win will get a prize and for those in the bottom five, prepare to write an essay on the history of obstacle courses.” The gym teacher, Mr. Paterson, has a maniacal gleam in his eye and a smirk on his lips.

Groans echo around the gym as the class takes in the tires and ropes that circle the gym.

“An essay, Mr. P? But this is gym class!” Steve, a junior Peter hasn’t talked too much shouts.

“And this is a science and technology school. Don’t you nerds like writing?”

Eyes are rolled now. “It’s not the same!”

Peter’s still looking at the obstacle course, assessing how much effort he’s going to put into it. Maybe trip on a tire there, slip on the climbing wall here. He’s so caught up in looking at the obstacle course that he fails to notice Flash sneaking up behind him. But when he hears Flash, and no spidey-senses are tingling, he turns with low expectations of confrontation. If his spidey-senses aren’t flaring, there’s no threat. Not that Flash is much of a threat against Peter, but still.

“What do you want Flash?” he asks, unwilling to let Flash lead the conversation.

“Ready to lose, Parker? Get prepared to write that essay!” Flash said.

“Okay, Flash, that you for your support in my physical abilities.”

Flash seemed to freeze for a moment, dissecting Peters's words. What did he say, kill ‘em with kindness! Get’s them every time!

“Whatever, Penis, I’ll beat you anyways.”

Flash stalks off, where, Peter doesn’t know. There isn’t much space in the gym for him to sulk in.

His attention is pulled back to Mr. P, who’s listing off the groups.

“Alright, the first two names I list in each group are heat one, and the second is heat two.” Peter tunes him out until he hears his name. “McMillian, Parker, Ronan, and Thompson, group 3.”

Thank goodness he doesn’t have to race Flash. Though Flash is still in his group. Ugh. His day was going _so_ well too.

The class waits in the middle of the class, watching each group go. The first group is boring, each student completing it without anything fun happening. The second group has the class clowns in it, who goof off. There are also jocks in that group, so the times are pretty skewed. One of the jocks actually catches up to the first heat, which is both awkward and funny to watch, because Mr. P’s face grows a little more red the longer he stares at the disaster waiting to happen between the students on the obstacle course.

Then it’s Peter’s turn, and he looks at the obstacle course with dread. If only he’d be allowed to go full out on it. It might actually be fun then. He hears Flash talking behind him but refuses to turn around and engage. Mr. P blows his whistle and he and his partner take off. The tires are easy, but he makes himself trip on the 10th one but doesn’t let himself fall. Now he’s behind his partner just a little bit, and for now, that’s okay. The rope climb is next, and the feeling of a rope in his hands makes him miss his webs just a little bit. He rings the bell, almost forgetting to wrap his legs around the rope so he isn’t just dangling with one hand. That would probably raise some questions. On his way down, he glances back at Flash and his partner, and they’re still at the start line.

Next is the hurdles, and he lets himself trip on the third and seventh one, just for fun. The climbing wall is easy, and everyone else had an easy time with it, so Peter lets himself complete it without much fuss. Last is just a sprint, so Peter pumps his arms as if he’s trying to sprint. In reality, he’s going relatively slow compared to what he can actually go, but he finishes just a step or two behind his partner.

“3 minutes 45 seconds for McMillian, 3 minutes 47 seconds for Parker,” Mr. P calls out.

 _Right_ _in_ _the_ _middle_ _so_ _far_ , Peter thinks. _That’s_ _good_.

Flash ends up only a second faster than Peter, but he’s huffing and puffing, so it seems like he was actually working hard to go fast. Peter can feel his glare from across the room, and it seems that the second difference in their times isn’t enough for Flash to feel superior. But Flash can’t corner Peter in the middle of the gym so Peter’s safe for now.

Peter's phone is his friend as he waits for class to be over, a new game he downloaded the day before called Perfect Slices hogging his attention.

After class, Peter zooms into the locker rooms and changes quickly, leaving before Flash can even turn to him. Peter doesn’t have any other classes but 6th period with Flash, so he’s free for the rest of the day (unless Flash actively goes looking for him, and at this point wouldn’t you consider this stalking?).

Peter takes a seat next to Ned, pulling out his notebook.

“How was P.E.?” Ned asks, turning to him, asking both in the interest of Peter’s activities and in preparation for his own period of P.E. after lunch.

Pete shrugs, “Okay, it’s an obstacle course that’s timed, which is annoying,” he grins at Ned. “But I annoyed Flash so I’ll count it as a win!”

Ned shakes his head. “Why you get off on poking a sleeping bear, I’ll never know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rn I'll probably be updating somewhat frequently, but idk. School is a lot and i have homework :(


	3. Web You later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Peter catches thieves and a new villain appears????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flash is 3 for 3 in harassing Peter each chapter...will I make it 4 for 4 next time? Who knows, not me!

The rest of the school day goes by without a hassle. The project he’d finished a week ago for Journalism was finally turned in, and so that load of stress was off his shoulders. Of course, there was a new project assigned, but it wasn’t due for three weeks, so Peter had time.

The last period of the day was math, which both Ned and Flash were in. Unlike history, however, the teacher actually paid attention to her students, so despite Flash’s close proximity to Peter’s seat (two chairs away) there was relatively little he could do to Peter. Ned however was across the room, so Peter resorted to stealthily texting with Ned for the period. He only got two glares from Ms. Harrison, which was a plus! Normally, it was more like four and then his phone was taken away.

Finally, school was over, and Peter could leave. He and Ned walked away from their lockers, chatting about the newest Lego Star Wars set that had come out.

“Uh oh, Flash alert,” Ned said glumly, interrupting Peter’s ramblings.

“Will he ever quit?” Peter grumbled. “It’s like he gets a hard-on for torturing me.”

Unfortunately, Ned’s snickering brought Flashes attention first to Ned, then to Peter who was the obvious source of the laughter.

“What’re you laughing’ at, freaks?” Flash sneered, stalking closer.

“Nothing, Flash. Please leave us alone,” Peter said, but he glanced at Ned and couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on his face.

Flash reached out and pushed his hands against Peter’s chest, much like he’d done in the locker rooms earlier that day.

“Quit laughing or I’ll punch your face in,” he threatened.

Peter sighed. “This is the third time today you’ve harassed us, Flash. Won’t you stop?”

“I’ll harass who I want to harass! And there ain’t nothing you can do about it!”

There was actually _quite_ a lot Peter could do about it, but that wasn’t what his powers were for. He and Ned managed to stay silent while Flash seethed and ranted at them, finally escaping when one of Flash’s cronies alerted him of a teacher walking down the hall. Peter wondered if the school security ever watched the video cameras in the hallway and saw what Flash was doing. They probably weren’t, because Flash wasn’t subtle when he was harassing a student. The failed system of high school. Teachers that barely care about their students and administration workers don’t even try to pretend.

Ned and Peter walked through the front doors of the school and continued down the street.

“One of these days, I’m gonna just pop him in the jaw,” Ned said, waving his arm in front of him in a mock punch.

Peter laughed. “You show him! But don’t hit first, let him start it.”

“I’ll probably be the one in trouble in the end though,” Ned said. “His father's money and influence over the school spell doom for anyone who dares to lay a hand on his precious boy. I can’t _wait_ until we’re out of this school and away from Flash.”

“Only a year and a half and we’re home free,” Peter agreed. “Even if,” he shuddered, “Flash somehow goes to the college we go to, it’ll hopefully be big enough that we’ll never have to see him again.”

“A year and a half,” Ned repeated, nodding his head firmly.

They turned to each other, performing their handshake they’d perfected in middle school before parting ways. Peter could see Ned’s bus turn down the street already.

“Alright, I’ll see you on Monday,” he said.

Ned saluted him. “See ya then!”

Peter continued walking down the street. He glanced at his watch. Aunt May was out until at least 10:30, so he had about three hours of patrolling he could get in before he really had to get home and get started on his homework. Normally, he’d go home first and do his homework, patrolling around 11:30-the wee hours of the morning, but since May was out, and he didn’t want to risk her checking up on him only to see him missing when she got home, he had to adjust his schedule. On normal days, he told her he was going to bed by 11, and boy was she happy freshman year when he’d started that. Thankfully, she rarely checked on him when he told her he was going to sleep, and she rarely stayed up past 11 anyway, so patrolling was easy.

He went to his favorite haunt, the top of the Morning Bugle building (in his suit, of course, he’d changed in the ally before climbing and webbing up), because he was petty like that, where he webbed his school bag inconspicuously against the roof. Years of practice allow him to know where to put it so even if someone goes to the roof, they would be hard-pressed to find anything amiss.

His patrol goes smoothly, the city quiet this time of the day. More people are about so fewer criminals are willing to risk themselves. Pickpockets and thieves are still thriving, however, so Peter webs up 15 pickpockets before the first hour is even up.

By 5:45 the city starts to get a little more confident in its ability to break the law, and Peter’s chasing a car filled with bank robbers. He’d arrived just in time to see them jump in the inconspicuous red corolla, blending quickly with the early evening traffic.

He gave chase, able to see them from his place swinging up above, and gained on them as they drove. They turned down smaller and smaller streets, still trying to remain inconspicuous. Finally, they stopped in a parking lot, parking on one of the middle floors. Thankfully, it was open-air and easy to get into, and Spider-Man dropped in silently.

He could hear them talking, laughing, and congratulating themselves on their success.

“Well, done boys, we can relax after this one,” one of the men said, slapping the shoulders of another.

“I’d rethink that statement if I were you,” Spider-Man said, propelling himself into the midst of the four men. Whether it was luck or coincidence, they were huddled around in a circle instead of transitioning into the other cars Peter was sure they had ready, so inserting himself into their space was easy.

He kicked on in the chest, sending him reeling into the car behind him, webbing two others and pulling them together to knock them out. He could feel the fourth one behind him, ducking out of the way of the meaty fist. After it passed over his head, he vaulted himself onto the ceiling, taking a split second to look down at the men.

One of the two men he’d banged together was already up, and the man who’d run into the car was charging into the fray.

“Get down, you nasty bug!” he yelled. “Don’t be a coward.”

Spider-Man didn’t acknowledge that with a response, instead webbing the last man on the ground _to_ the ground so even if he woke up, he wouldn’t be able to move. He dropped down on the shoulders of the first guy, pushing him down with his feet and quickly webbing his hands to the dirty concrete. The last two were still close by, so he backflipped away, quickly righting himself.

“Don’t you know when to quit?” he quipped as he jabbed at one and kicked at another.

They just grunted at him.

“You know,” he said conversationally, barely winded, “I’ll have to get you in touch with the Rhino, he speaks in grunts too. You’ll have a party.”

“You-” but the fourth man was cut off as Spider-Man webbed his mouth shut (leaving his nose open for air, Peter wasn’t a _killer_ ) and knocked him to the ground, webbing him against the first fallen guy.

Finally, the last guy seemed to understand he wouldn’t win, and started backing away.

“Hey look Mr., I didn’t want to do it but I’ve got kids an no income, I had to do it, I had no choice.”

“There are still other ways of going about and getting that money,” Spider-Man said. Whether or not the guy was telling the truth, Peter was serious.

Still, he webbed the last man against the car he was backing up into. He then went around and webbed their mouths shut; Peter really hated hearing them curse him out when they realized they were caught. Pulling out a pad of sticky notes and a black sharpie from one of the pockets in his suit (and he had pockets, it was only logical) he quickly wrote down the information.

**_Four Men Robbed Inner-City Bank_**

**_Captured Dec. 3, 2021_ **

**_Sincerely,_ **

**_Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man_ **

**_Web you later!_ **

Then he searched the pockets of the men for a phone and called the police. (If they didn’t have a phone, he’d use his burner, but he hated buying new ones, so he tried not to use his burner at all. You’d be surprised at how many criminals still have their phones on them when they do nefarious activities.)

He was on the ledge, ready to swing away when his spidey-senses tingled. The men were all tied up, he knew because he could still hear their muffled cries through his webbing, so whatever was making him tense was something different. An actual threat.

Spider-Man turned cautiously, scanning the interior of the parking garage for any signs of a threat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move, but the only thing in that corner was a small white car and shadows.

Suddenly, his spidey-senses flared up and he leaped up to the ceiling in time to see a dark shadowy dart fly through the space his head was just in.

“Glad you see you’re living up to the rumors, _Spider-Man_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow three chapters in three days!
> 
> Also: This is my first fight scene, be kind, ik there r flaws. 
> 
> AND: i guess i don't know how to do present and past tense when writing, sorry if it's confusing lol


	4. Homework Is Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Peter meets an enemy and homework is evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a filler chapter, sorry, but you meet the villain!

“Who are you?” Peter said, trying to locate the speaker.

“No one of importance,” comes the silky-smooth voice, male and smug.

“You just tried to stab me, tell me who you are.”

Finally, Peter sees movement, and a figure cloaked in darkness stepped out of the shadows. He couldn’t make out their face, only their eyes. They watched him coldly, assessing his position on the ceiling. But the figure made no move to throw knives at him again.

“A curious observer, one might say,” they said again, and now Peter could hear a masculine tone in the voice. “One must know their opponent in order to defeat them.”

“Now you’re just creepy,” Peter said.

He raises his arm and shoots out webs at the figure, both to see how they’ll react and to try and capture him. In the back of his mind, Peter suspects it won’t be as easy as taking down the bank robbers, who he can see are straining against his webs with wide eyes.

Peter’s webs simply fall onto the pavement where the figure was standing a moment before, and it takes a moment of frantic looking to locate their new position. The figure was near the white car, farther away.

“Tell me who you are,” Peter demanded.

But there was no answer save two more knives thrown at his person, and by the time Peter looked back at the figure, they were already gone. His spidey-sense had died down as well, the constant tingle that had been present with the figure fading away.

“God fucking dammit,” he growled. “I hate new villains. I _so_ do not need this in my life right now.”

Peter could hear sirens racing up the garage, and with one last glance back at the mostly empty space, slung himself from the ledge and flew through the night.

He arrived at his home, panting slightly as he opened the window and crawled inside. Glancing at the time, he grimaced slightly. 8 o’clock was slightly later than he had planned, but he’d found himself on the opposite side of the city and had been distracted by a couple more pickpockets on his way home. And he’d had to pick up his backpack from the Morning Bugle building, which added an additional 15 minutes or so to his travels. Still, there was time before Aunt May came home, and he could get a little homework in before she came.

Grabbing his backpack, he pulled out his homework and set it on his desk. Groaning at the sheer amount of work that needed to be done, he stripped out of his suit, putting it away carefully before escaping out of the room and the homework that felt as if it was shaming him for not being done already. He made himself a sandwich, started water on a boil, and tucked himself in to enjoying an apple. He knew he was procrastinating, he was aware of the homework, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch it quite yet. A bad habit, yes, but one he’d had forever, and the work would get done…. eventually, so Peter took a moment to just eat. He needed food, after all, he couldn’t focus when his stomach was empty. Plus, his metabolism was a bitch and hunger made him irritable.

Pouring the noodles into the boiling water and stirring it gently, he contemplated the new villain he’d encountered. Realizing he needed something to organize his thoughts, he darted up to his room and grabbed a notebook, ignoring the homework guiltily. Returning downstairs, he opened up the notebook to a new page.

He titled it _Creepy Shadow Stalker_ and began to list different things he’d noticed during the meeting. Shadow knives, teleportation, a weird vendetta against Spider-Man. Overall, it seemed Peter would have to be extra careful from now on not to make any rash moves.

He stirred his spaghetti and took a bite out of his sandwich, annoyed. It was the middle of Junior year and he had too much to do. Maybe he should think about pulling another superhero onto the case. Peter dismissed the thought. He didn’t know enough yet, and he didn’t want to risk his identity. If he drew the attention of the big-shot hero’s that worked more in upstate New York, and his identity was found out, he didn’t have resources to protect those he’s closest to.

So, he’d have to manage this on his own for now.

When his noodles were finally done (and he’d finished the sandwich) he brought the bowl of food to his room to finally settle down and do his homework.

The opening of the front door brought Peter out of his work, and he listened for a moment to the footsteps of the person who’d entered his home. Confirming it was Aunt May, he pushed himself away from his desk, grabbing the empty bowl that had held his spaghetti, and went to the kitchen, dropping it off at the sink.

“Hey, Aunt May.”

She grinned, wide and happy to see him, “Pete!” She pulled him into a hug, “How you’ve been? Was your day alright? Classes good?”

“It was fine, nothing too bad happened.”

Aunt May pressed a kiss to Peter's forehead. “Alright. Now be sure to go to bed soon, it’s late! Too little sleep is bad for developing minds.”

Peter laughed. “Okay, Aunt May.”

“Now, I’m off to bed myself, goodnight Pete, sleep tight.”

Peter watched her leave the kitchen, guilt worming its way in his heart. Part of him always felt guilty because of his vigilante work, a secret that she doesn’t know, and doesn’t worry about. Peter wondered how she’d react if she knew he only got 1-2 hours of sleep a night, 4 on an, especially good day. Probably with shock.

He returned to his room and got started on his homework again. He had just a little more to do tonight, and knowing Aunt May, about 45 minutes before she was dead asleep, and he could patrol some more. He knew that the amount he patrolled probably wasn’t practical, and he might fare better with a more precise schedule, but he always grew antsy the more he stayed out of his suit. The thought of people suffering while he’s asleep or doing nothing too difficult to resist. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and he needed to protect his city, never mind he was a sleep-deprived 17-year-old trying to get through high school.

The minutes ticked by slowly and Peter was unable to get in the groove of homework he’d been in before Aunt May returned. When he could hear the telltale sign of the slight snore Aunt May vehemently denied having come from her room, he slipped on his suit once more and stole out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of timeskips, so sorry about that, hopefully it all makes sense. The timeskips mainly r skipping over the boring stuff nobody wants to read about tho


	5. A New Friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which peter meets a new kid, and flash is a nuisance peter has to work around.

The weekend sped by fast, in part because Peter spent most of it patrolling and on the lookout for the creepy shadow stalker dude. He’d seen no sign of the man (he assumes it’s a man at least), the streets filled with regular, ordinary miscreants. That didn’t stop Peter from worrying however, the hairs on the back of his neck itching. He could feel something looming on the horizon, and he knew this was the calm before the storm. There hadn’t been any major battles or opponents recently, and Peter knew his luck was running out. It was too much to ask for a year of peace, _something_ would always come along and snatch it away.

Peter arrived at school and waited for Ned at the lockers. He could hear conversations in the hallway, some hushed, some not, and he perked up his ears to listen in.

One girl was talking with her friends across the hallway.

“Did you hear about the transfer? I can’t believe a new student is joining so late in the year.”

“I heard he’s a junior, so hopefully we’ll have him in some of our classes. Maybe he’s _hot_!”

Midtown was not a small school, but it wasn’t gigantic either. The students knew mostly everyone, if not by name, at least face, so a new student joining in the middle of the year was definitely interesting. Midtown was also full of gossipers, so word spread quickly.

“Peter,” A voice sounded from beside him, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Ned!” he said. “You’re here!”

Ned was unimpressed. “I’ve been here for like five minutes and you haven’t even noticed me yet.” He stood by his open locker, rustling through it to organize it for the day.

“Sorry, I was distracted,” Peter said sheepishly. “Did you know there’s a new student joining the juniors?”

“Really, sucks that they’ll be joining so late though.”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I wonder why.”

Ned shrugged. “We’ll probably hear about it later.”

Ned shut his locker and together, they started walking through the halls, killing time before class.

“How was your weekend?” Peter asked. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing much, there wasn’t really anything to do. What about you?”

“I was pretty busy, didn’t get a lot of downtime. But I did my homework, so that’s one thing off my back.”

Ned shook his head. “I don’t get how you do it. You’re so busy all the time. We never hang out anymore outside of school.”

The guilt was back in Peter. It was true, before the spider bite, he and Ned would hang out often, but after, there just wasn’t any time for much of a social life, small as it had been. Especially with the increased workload of school, he and Ned hadn’t hung out.

“We could have a study session later this week. APUSH is kicking my ass,” Peter said.

Ned nodded, “I know the feeling. Does Wednesday after school, work?”

Peter thought about it. Nothing stood out about that day, so he agreed to Wednesday. “Your house or mine?”

“Mine works,” Ned said.

With plans made, they entered their first period and settled down in their seats. The bell hadn’t rung, but there wasn’t anything wrong with being early. With an eye on the clock, so he was prepared when it rang, Peter and Ned chatted until the start of class.

While the students were trickling in, he noticed a new person walking hesitantly through the doorway. He was tall, with brown hair and broad shoulders. There was something almost familiar about him, but Peter could swear he’d never seen the boy before. Shrugging off the feeling, he watched the boy walk up to the front of the class to the teacher.

Peter could have tuned his hearing into their conversation, but his curiosity wasn’t enough to actually do so. It was probably a boring conversation anyway. The teacher pointed over to Peter and Ned’s table, where an empty seat lays bare. There was one other girl in their table group, and it seemed as if the new guy would be sitting with them in the empty seat.

The boy picked his way over, hand clutching the strap of his backpack tightly. Peter tried to keep an open face, guessing that it might be overwhelming to join a new school without knowing anybody.

“Hey,” Peter said when the boy said. “I’m Peter. Nice to meet you.”

“Ned,” Ned supplied helpfully, waving his hand slightly.

Glancing up at the boys, the girl they never really talked to spoke up. “I’m MJ.”

“Charles,” said the new boy.

“Did you move to the city or change schools?” Peter asked, curious.

“I’m new to the city,” Charles said. “We moved in early last week, but my father wanted me to join the school at the beginning of the week instead of in the middle, so that’s why I’m here now.”

“Where’d you move from?”

“A small town in easter Massachusetts. Very different from here,” Charles chuckled slightly.

Before they could continue their conversation, the bell rang and their teacher called their attention to the front of the class.

“Alright class, we have a new student joining us,” she pointed to Charles, whose cheeks flushed pink at the attention. “Please treat him with the respect you treat others.”

After his introduction, she moved on to the actual schoolwork, and Peter tuned her out as she droned on. He knew he should be paying attention, but right now there isn’t much he can learn. He can see Flash from his seat, who’s looking at Peter and Charles with a sneer. Peter has a sinking feeling that by associating with Charles, Peter has brought Flashes attention over to the new guy. And with his less than confident (so far, Peter still doesn’t really know Charles that well yet) demeanor, Flash will single him out easily. Peter sent a silent apology over to Charles. He’d just have to draw Flash’s attention away from the new kid more.

Peter realized the teacher was finally talking about new material, so he tuned back into what she was saying, opening up his notebook and grabbing his pencil. He’d just have to keep a close eye on Charles and Flash.

Sighing slightly, Peter wondered when his life had gotten this busy. He really needed a planner to organize his different duties, as both Spider-Man and Peter Parker.

For now, though, he should figure out Charles's schedule.

He leaned over, keeping a careful eye on the teacher.

“Hey, Charles,” he whispered. “What’s your schedule?”

Charles looked at him, seemingly surprised that Peter asked, but handed a slip of paper over silently.

Peter glanced at it, comparing it to his (and Flashes and Ned’s). Charles was as lucky as Peter was this year and only had Flash for periods 1, 2, and 6, like Peter. Peter shared another class with Charles during 4th, but other than that, Charles had different classes than him. But his 3rd period with Ned as well. His schedule made Peter’s job easier at least.

“We have one, two, and six together,” he said to Charles, tapping the paper. “I’ll walk with you to second period.”

“Thanks,” Charles whispered back.

Peter smiled at him and settled back into his seat.

“No problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, two chapters in a day, and maybe another one soon! idk. Also, Charles is a beautiful name and nobody can tell me otherwise.  
> p.s. Grammarly really like the oxford comma, which is funny


	6. Dodgeball is like fighting villains, and that's not okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter has to overanalyze dodgeball (ugh) and accidentally shows off

Peter and Charles chatted with each other as they walked to second period. Ned had split off after the bell with a wave at the duo, so they were left to get to know each other more. Peter was glad Charles seemed to be like-minded with him and Ned. As much as Peter wished he was willing to get along with everyone at least a little bit, it was definitely easier to have things in common with the people you get to know.

Peter was telling Charles about Flash as they were walking into the locker rooms.

“He has some sort of vendetta against me, I’m not quite sure what brought it out, or why he pursues it so vehemently, but be warned if you see him around. He might also seek you out because of your association with me, so sorry.” Peter offered a slight smile, drawing a slight laugh out of Charles.

“You’d think the days of petty school bullying would be over by now,” Charles said. “But I guess there always has to be someone who preys on the weak.”

“That’s for sure.”

Charles had to go through the lockers to get to the teacher because he was new and didn’t actually have a locker to go to, so Peter was left to change in the locker room alone. Of course, Flash decided this was the most opportune time to advance on Peter, just as he was walking to the stalls to change.

“Whatcha hiding under all those clothes, Parker? Embarrassed about something.”

Peter wondered if Flash was running out of material to tease him about. The digs today were much less hurtful than they’d been in middle school and freshman year.

“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to change in front of everyone,” Peter said calmly, not stopping in in his journey to reach the stalls. Why the school decided to have so many benches and lockers, he’ll never know. “Now, are you going to keep following me into the stall, or can I change in peace?”

Flash’s face went an interesting shade of red, but he stepped back presumably to finish up in the locker room. Once Peter was inside the stall, he shook his head. There was something off about Flash recently. He’d been picking on Peter more frequently, and while bullying Peter was nothing new, it used to be a couple of times a week, not multiple times a day. But there wasn’t much Peter could do short of stalking Flash’s homelife as Spider-Man and trying to fix whatever was wrong with Flash.

He left the stall and quickly headed out of the locker rooms, passing Charles who was in the middle of getting ready for gym. Peter was pleased to note that Charles’s locker was near his, so they wouldn’t be too far apart. Now it was less likely Flash would try to corner Charles (if he ever went after him that is, he hadn’t yet, but Peter suspected he would soon) and Peter wouldn’t be able to see them.

Soon after he arrived in the gym, Mr. P started talking about the activity for the day. Peter listened closely so he could relay it back to Charles when he came into class.

“Dodgeball,” Mr. P said. “I finally got it approved in the district. We’ll be having two teams that I pick at first, then we’ll dissolve into teams of your own choosing.”

Thankfully, Charles came out in time to hear the tail end of the speech and grasp what the activity was without Peter having to say much.

“You do know how to play dodgeball, right?” Peter whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Charles looked at him, eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips. “I wasn’t raised in a _barn_ you know.”

Peter shrugged, “You never know.”

They listened for the listing of the teams, and honestly, Peter should have expected the outcome. Flash and his cronies were on Team A, and Peter and Charles were on Team B. Cliché or not, Peter wasn’t looking forward to the class, especially after he’d pretty much taunted Flash in the locker rooms.

As they were walking to their respective sides of the gym, Peter contemplated how he should play. He wasn’t going to avoid all the balls that would be inevitably thrown at him, but he wouldn’t be Flash’s punching bag either. He’d just have to dodge the ones that he saw coming and that an average high schooler would be able to dodge and ignore the balls that might trigger his Spidey-sense.

It should have been easier, Peter thought, running to avoid the ball thrown at him. He’d had practice at being average for almost 3 and a half years now. Playing a game of dodgeball should have been a piece of cake. But Peter had underestimated just how many of Flash’s allies had joined him in his attack on Peter. It didn’t help that he and one other girl were the only ones left standing on their side, vs. the other 6 the team had.

 _Why,_ Peter lamented silently. _Why is it_ always _me?_

His team was cheering them on from the sidelines, the added pressure not helping Peter’s internal crisis. And he was so caught up in his thoughts, he forgot to remember that there were active balls being thrown at his person.

It was instinct to fall flat to the floor (carefully of course he wasn’t an idiot), then grabbed a wayward ball from the ground and chuck it hard at the attacker on his way back up. The ‘oof’ that came out of the student (not Flash, thank whatever deity had decided to take pity on him at that moment) shocked him out of his momentary instinctual reaction.

The class was shocked for a moment (they rarely saw anything noteworthy come from their resident loner), before his team erupted into cheers, louder than they’d been a moment before. Peter could hear Charles right alongside them.

“Yes Peter, show ‘em what you’ve got!”

“You got it, Peter, go Celeste!” (And wow Peter had forgotten he’d had a teammate for a second).

Glancing at his class briefly, he could see most of them were shocked, but none were suddenly jumping to conclusions or staring at him suspiciously (except for Flash but that was nothing new.)

As much as Peter wanted his team to win, he didn’t want to accidentally do anything stupid again, so as subtly and quickly as he could, he got tagged out, leaving his teammate, Celeste, to meet a similarly likewise defeat. Flash’s team beamed when their opponents lost, and Mr. P took hold of the class again.

“Impressive,” Charles said when Peter took the spot next to him.

“Thanks, I don’t know where it came from,” Peter replied. “Adrenaline probably.”

“Alright, great job and good game. As we have 20 ish minutes of class left, why don’t you divide up into four teams and you can do a tournament if you will try and see if one team can come out on top. And because this class divides up into four annoyingly, can I have two volunteers to be refs for the games,” he said.

Peter shot his hand in the air. “I’ll do it Mr. P,” he said, and if it was a little uncharacteristic for him to speak up and draw attention to himself, he let it slide. Peter had decided that dodgeball was like a buried bomb waiting for a trigger to blow up. It was too much like being in a real fight, and Peter was already stretched thin as it was trying to keep all his secrets from bursting out. One wrong move and 3 years of careful planning and excuses would just go right out the window, and Peter would be left grasping for straws. So, all in all, dodgeball was out.

Charles sent him a wounded look when Mr. P agreed to let Peter be a ref.

“Sorry,” Peter said apologetically. “Having things fly at my head isn’t my favorite thing to do.  
He glanced around and leaned closer to Charles. “I’ll be watching whichever team you pick a little less closely for fouls, so don’t worry, the blatant favoritism is a beneficial part of having a friendship.”

Charles laughed, shaking his head slightly at Peter’s antics, so Peter knew that Charles didn’t really hold any bad feelings.

Ironically, Celeste also volunteered to be the ref, and Peter wondered if that was because she’d been the one to lose the game. There wasn’t much she could have done, but still, it’s the pride that gets wounded, not the logic.

They started the games, and before Peter knew it, the class was over. (Neither Flash’s team nor Charles’s team ended up winning the mini-tournament in the end.)

As Peter walked into the locker rooms alongside Charles, he had a brief moment of regret in his heart. Who knows what dodgeball would have been like if he’d had no powers and just been allowed to play like a ‘normal’ kid. (Probably worse than it had been if peter was being honest). Or if he’d been allowed to play with the full extent of his powers.

Someday, Peter would seek out other superheroes and try to test the limit of his powers with other people. Maybe he’d even ask them to play dodgeball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charles is my baby I love him. but I digress. Hopefully, y'all know how to play dodgeball, the name is pretty self-explanatory.  
> Also, idk if you've noticed, but this isn't beta read and i kinda just post it after writing, so let me know of any glaringly obvious spelling/grammer/plotholes that I've decided to forget of.
> 
> and if you want give a kudos if you like the fic :)


	7. Indian Food is Yummy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Peter and Ned + Charles get lunch, and Charles contemplates his new friend

Charles didn’t know what to think of Peter. There was the initial reaction, the gratefulness that came with being accepted so readily in an unknown environment, the comrade that came from sharing classes, but there were parts of Peter that just seemed strange.

Charles didn’t know how to explain it. There was a flightiness to Peter that seemed out of place in the small lithe body of his new friend. A separation from the rest of the students at Midtown. He didn’t know if Peter himself knew of the aura he held while in school. Most people looked at him for direction in classes, not that they ever actually talked to him. But Peter seemed to be on top of schoolwork and directions, and in a class of teens that would rather be outside instead of stuck in a classroom, it was easy to watch him for instruction.

Also, Peter wasn’t half bad looking, and more than a few girls (and boys) glanced at Peter frequently throughout first and second periods. Especially during the dodgeball game. Charles wondered if Peter knew the effect he had on most of the class in the attraction project. And that one save that Peter had when it was just Peter and that other girl, Charles swore most of the girls swooned.

What Charles didn’t understand, however, was how the school let Flash continuously bully Peter. It wasn’t as if it was some secret that Flash was a bully and Peter was the main recipient of his words. If Charles had been going to school in midtown longer, or he was more confident and comfortable in this school, he might work towards taking Flash off of Peters back. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t know Peter _that_ well yet (though he had a feeling his friendship with Peter (and Ned) would grow deeper and stronger the longer he was in New York.

And Peter didn’t seem as if Flash was really that bothersome, his attitude while explaining Flash and his actions light and almost humorous. If Charles didn’t know better, he would almost say Peter was amused with Flash and his bullying.

He walked to the front of the school after third period where Peter told him to meet before lunch, winding around the halls of the school, hoping he was going in the right direction. Unlike his school back in Massachusetts, students didn’t really eat in the cafeteria, choosing instead to go off campus to one of the many restaurants and fast-food places nearby. It was a lot more freedom, and not for the first time that morning, Charles was grateful Peter had reached out to him. He dreaded what would have happened if he were alone.

He saw a head of brown hair peeking through the heads of students streaming out of the doors and recognized Peter. Ned, who he’d talked to a little bit but didn’t quite know as well as Peter yet was with Peter nearby. They seemed to be talking, their heads together, and Charles felt a little awkward coming up to them and interrupting.

“Hey, Charles,” Peter said, a wide smile on his face. Ned smiled at him at well.

“Hi,” Charles said.

“How was your third period? I’ve heard Mr. Bernard is a bit…eccentric,” Peter asked.

Charles shrugged, remembering his art teacher. “He’s a little strange, but back home we had a teacher that decided having bird have free range in her classroom was normal, and a hamster maze on the floor, so most things after that are pretty tame, to be honest.”

Peter and Ned looked at him with wide eyes.

“Woah dude, we have _nothing_ like that here. I’m so jealous!” Ned exclaimed.

Charles laughed slightly. Ned seemed nice, and Charles was glad he was so open to a new friendship, especially since he and Peter seemed so close.

They started walking out of the school, entering the busy New York streets. Peter and Ned seemed to have a destination in mind, so Charles just followed along. About halfway down the block from the school, Peter turned slightly to Charles.

“I just realized I don’t have your phone number,” he said.

“Oh, right,” Charles said. He opened his phone to the contacts list and started a new one. “Here.”

Peter quickly punched in his phone number, then handed the phone to Ned, who entered his as well. Ned handed it back once he was done.

“Now you’ve got to text us so we have your phone number too,” Ned said.

Charles nodded in agreement. “Alright.” He glanced around where they were walking. “So, where are we going?”

Peter pointed towards a small shop that had a blinking ‘OPEN’ sign on the front a couple of hundred yards in front of them.

“It’s a little Indian restaurant. The owners are really nice, and their food is absolutely delicious! And they make their food really fast so we’re never late back to school.” Peter said. “Wait, you’ll be okay with Indian right? Sorry, we didn’t ask.”

“No problem,” Charles said. “I’m pretty open to anything.”

Peter had a relieved expression on his face when Charles gave the okay. Charles wondered if Peter was aware of his ability to make people feel safe and okay. Most people would still be slightly guarded when meeting a new person, not as open and welcoming as Peter has been.

They entered the restaurant, and the darker lighting but bright colored walls made the space inside feel warm. Not to mention the yummy smells wafting from the back, spices, and meats he could smell making his stomach rumble.

He followed Peter and Ned up to the counter, looking at the menu while they ordered.

It was a colorful display of looping letters and delicious-looking food. He walked up to the counter and ordered, and they all retreated back to the waiting area near the door.

“So, Charles,” Ned began. “Why’d you move all the way to the city?”

Charles shrugged. “This and that. My parents divorced and my dad got a job in the city. I chose to go with my dad, and here I am.”

He could see Peter and Ned’s face pinch with sympathy, but they didn’t comment anything else, something Charles was grateful for. He’d gotten enough pity from his friends back home, and he was sick of the sad faces. His parents were better off separated, and even if his childhood innocence of happy families forever was shattered, he’d honestly seen the divorce coming for years. Still, part of him was a bit bitter they didn’t wait until he was at least in college and out of the house.

Peter was right about the quickness of the food, and soon after they ordered, they received their orders. Peter waved back at the employees, and Charles wondered again if Peter knew of his open personality. The restaurant workers clearly liked Peter.

They all started eating on the way back to school, the warmth from the takeout warming Charles’s hands.

“So, do you guys eat out every day?” Charles asked, a piece of naan making its way into his mouth.

Ned shook his head, mouth full. He swallowed. “Usually, we leave campus once or twice a week, depending on the weather and what we’re feeling like. You’re just lucky you caught us on an off-campus day.”

Peter piped up, holding his massive amounts of food in his arms. Would he be able to eat that all, Charles didn’t know. “And the places we go vary too. We frequent the Indian place a bit, but there are so many places to go within walking distance of Midtown that it’s kind of a pick and choose kind of deal.”

“Okay, cool.”

The walk back to school was somewhat silent as they ate, occasionally broken when one of them would comment something or another.

“Flash isn’t the kind of bully to steal food,” Peter was saying. “A, he’s rich so he doesn’t _need_ to, and B, because he knows that _that_ at least wouldn’t be tolerated by me. As soon as he doesn’t something truly detrimental to my health, I’ll snitch so fast he can’t even say ‘Spider-Man save me’.” Peter grinned at the words as if they held some joke neither he nor Ned was privy to.

“So why don’t you just do something?” Charles asked.

Peter shrugged. “It really doesn’t affect me. I mean it’s annoying, and his words hurt sometimes, but there isn’t much can actually do to me physically because then I’ll tell – and that won’t be snitching because it affected my health FYI. And his attention is on me, and not someone who can’t take it, and then I’d just feel guilty and sad for whomever he bullies next.” Then Peter laughed. “I can’t wait until he goes to college and his actions get him either thrown right out, or he has to reevaluate his whole personality. College is going to hit him like a truck full of bricks, and there’s so much his father’s money can do.”

Charles sat on those words the rest of the way back into school. There was logic to Peter’s words, but at the same time, Charles couldn’t help but feel that Flash shouldn’t be bullying anybody, no matter how much they said they could take it. And he didn’t miss the way Ned looked at Peter with a mix of disappointment and sadness, no doubt wishing Peter would get the Flash situation dealt with.

So, Charles resigned himself to watching Peter’s back and making sure his friend wasn’t suffering from any secret doubts or insecurities because of Flash – and perhaps even investigate a little more into Flash’s influence in the school. If Peter had people who thought he was good and kind, surely some of those would help get Flash to stop bullying people for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, the plot is kinda loopy, and idk if the whole peter being a heartthrob is realistic, but this is my fic so it is happening. and everyone who lets flash bully peter is a bitch and shouldn't be allowed to even look at peter with the way they're NOT helping him. 
> 
> also this is kind of a filler chapter-ish, but you got Charles's POV (tbh i thought it would be better sorry) and i just realized i made an OC, which i always cringe about. lol. oh well. 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the fic so far, give a kudos if you like it, and feel free to comment! shoutout to @butterflygrl because they're commenting and it makes me smile :) (idk if that's how you do it, I'm kinda new to working ao3 but i appreciate your comments!!)


	8. Shit Hits The Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Peter's day was too good, so the universe decides to make Peter suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings, I think:  
> Somewhat graphic depictions of injuries, destruction of city property. It's not too extensive, but just in case.

Peter drops his bags by his door and flops on his bed with a loud sigh.

In truth, it hadn’t been a long day, or even a stressful one, but as all students know, ordinary days are often just as long and tiring as bad ones. Befriending Charles was a good move, Peter could tell that the friendship he created would be strong and welcomed, but his social meter for the ~~week~~ day was thoroughly drained.

He lifted his head slightly to look at his backpack, which was sitting so nicely next to the doorframe, hiding the massive amounts of homework his teachers decided he needed, and let his head fall to the pillows once more.

“Someday,” he said to himself, “I’m going to put down my backpack and schoolwork for good. And then it’ll be all over.”

Mentally prepped now, he reached over to his nightstand and opened the drawer, where one of his pairs of web-shooters (because he has to have multiple, backups if you will) was located and used it to snatch his backpack.

He had hours until Aunt May was home and asleep, and as per usual, he’d spend that time doing homework, and when that as (mostly) finished, retreat to his phone and scroll mindlessly until it was time for patrol.

\----

Peter heard the telltale sign of Aunt May’s snore and opened his window slowly. He was already changed, an antsy feeling he hadn’t felt in a while making his skin itch to get out and find out was wrong bubbling up in his chest. Peter didn’t know if it was because he had met Charles, and something good had finally happened for once, or if it was just time for the dam to break and all hell to break loose, but he had a bad feeling that he wouldn’t be getting _any_ sleep for the next couple of weeks.

The first half hour was going well. Nothing extreme was taking place on his streets, traffic looked fairly light for once, and Spider-Man started feeling hopeful that his premonitions were just feelings, and that they held no true basis at all.

But when he heard the boom, and then the first scream, he knew. It was real, and it was going to be bad.

He raced over to where he heard the screams, cursing the limiting factor of the time and distance each swing took up. It was rare, but sometimes he was just a hair too late, and those were the worst nights to go back home to.

He arrived at the scene, confirming it was the actual place when he saw rubble from a broken building and the few civilians out this late at night gawking at the ends of the streets. At first glance, there wasn’t anything that looked like the cause of the destruction, but Spider-Man couldn’t afford to search for anything, because in his second glance, he could see a woman trapped under a large slab of concrete. It looked like her foot and calf were trapped, and he swung down, shouting at the civilians to call 9-1-1. During times like this, he’d noticed most pulled out their phones to record rather than get the actual help that was needed, and he’d wasted too much time assuming in the past to trust that the people were smart enough not to just watch. He was only glad that though he was a vigilante, and law enforcement didn’t like him most of the time, they respected him enough to listen to him and follow his directions. Spider-Man saw three or four civilians bringing their phones up to their ears after his announcement, and hoped they were calling an ambulance because as he lifted the slab the woman was trapped under, he knew there wasn’t much he could do for her as he was.

She was sobbing, pain evident in every part of her body, and he hated to move her, but he had to. He shifted his weight so the slab was supported with his right arm and shoulder, using his web shooter to fling her out into the more open street.

He set the slab down gently and rushed over to the woman. “Is there anyone else, ma’am? Was there anyone else that got trapped?” His hand hovered over his shoulder, addressing her, but also those who stood around. “I’m sorry ma’am, I know you’re in pain. There should be an ambulance coming soon.”

She shook her head, and the hesitant shake of the other people confirmed she was most likely the only civilian trapped under the rubble. Another woman, whose eyes were wide and her face pale pointed to the phone against her ear.

“The ambulance is coming; they should be here soon.”

Spider-Man nodded to her in thanks, before standing and backing away from the woman. Something caused this explosion to happen, and he needed to find out what caused it before it caused an even bigger mess.

To Peter’s horror, not two seconds later he heard another explosion, and it sounded far away. He looked back to the civilians, anxious under the mask. His Spidey-sense was ringing like crazy, and with all the destruction, he could barely make sense of what was setting it off.

“Are you all, _absolutely_ sure that nobody is trapped under the rubble?” He asked urgently. He couldn’t leave without making sure everyone was safe here. He’d never forgive himself if he found that he could have saved someone but hadn’t even known they were in trouble.

He received reassurances that the woman with the crushed ankle was the only one who’d been trapped, and even now he could hear approaching sirens. With a final, hopeless glance back, he started swinging towards the other explosion. While the exact spot was uncertain, he could start to hear more screams that led him to the second place. Halfway there he cursed himself. He should have asked the civilians what they had seen. If they had even caught a glimpse of what might have set off the first explosion, he might have a better idea of what he was dealing with.

When he arrived at the second explosion, he was surprised to see another superhero there, already moving the rubble and rocks. A flash of red and gold drew his eyes up to the sky, where Ironman was hovering. Huh, Peter didn't typically see acknowledged hero's on this side of town. Hulk moved down on the ground, and Spider-Man hurried over as well.

It looked as if this explosion had caused lots more damage, and if the screams and iron-scented air were anything to go by, it had hit a lot more people this time too.

“Where,” he panted once he’d reached the Hulk, to stressed to care that the Hulk might attack him instead of helping.

Hulk pointed to the street corner, where Spider-Man could make out blue and green cloth laying limp under a teepee of concrete.

The first thing he had to do was secure the rubble so it wouldn’t collapse on the person underneath. The one slab with the woman was one thing, she’d barely been under it at all, but this person was under some dangerous territory, and one wrong move would bring the whole thing down. He swung around the edges, using his webs to secure the concrete before even trying to approach it closely. Finally, he deemed it worthy enough, and carefully made his way over.

When he could make out the features of the person trapped, he inhaled sharply. A boy, probably no more than 10 laid splayed out, unconscious. Peter couldn’t know what he was doing out in the city this late at night, but that wasn’t important right now.

He reached in slowly, dragging the kid out by his shoulders. The kid weighed practically nothing, and it was times like this that Peter knew he made the right choice in becoming Spider-Man. He had the power to save these people. He couldn’t have wasted his powers.

The kid didn’t rouse when Peter was finally free, but when he laid the kid out next to the other civilians the Hulk and Ironman had saved, the kid was twisting in place a bit, showing signs of waking up. He looked around for a parent, anybody who was looking distraught, but he saw nothing besides the standard look of horror. Peter had a sinking feeling that this kid's parent or parents were still trapped under the rubble as well.

He looked around for Ironman, who was now flying around the top of the rubble.

There was no time for Peter to waste shouting out to him, so he just used his webs to catch Ironman and draw him in.

“Hey, look buddy,” Ironman was saying when he came to a jerking stop in front of Peter.

“No time, sir. Sorry to pull you away but are you able to scan for lifeforms under the rubble.”

If the iron helmet could move, Peter would imagine it would have a shocked look on its face. Someone had dared to _interrupt_ him. But as Peter said, there wasn’t time to dwaddle around, so Ironman had to ignore the rudeness.

“Yes, JARVIS can.”

“Okay good. This kid,” and Peter motioned beside him, “is alone. I’m assuming his guardian is still under there. I got him out over there,” and he pointed, “But I’m not able to see anything else over there. Can you go look?”

“I haven’t checked over there anyways,” Ironman said, and promptly took off.

30 seconds later he was back. “There is another heat signature deeper under the pile of rubble, but it seems pretty buried. How should we go about getting them out?” Ironman said, but Spider-Man was already off, calculating different strategies to getting rid of all the rubble in front of him.

Ironman sighed. New superheroes always thought they knew best. He looked over at Hulk, who was dragging one last body out, and according to his earlier scans, (he’d finished them before Spider-Man pulled him in – he was looking for other things when he’d been webbed), that was the last body. Except for the one Spider-Man was going towards of course.

So Ironman resigned himself to hovering behind Spider-Man, allowing him easy access to be of assistance if he needed anything or something went wrong.

It looked fine in the beginning, Spider-Man provided structural support around the rubble, moving (throwing) the smaller chunks away (but they were still large, and Ironman was sort of impressed) when they weren’t needed. It looked fine.

But when Spider-Man shimmied himself into the hole he’d created that led to the buried body (And they all hoped it would still be alive, though the chances seemed slim), something cracked, letting a cascade of cement rocks imbued with rebar to tumble down, obscuring the hole Spider-Man had just created.

There wasn’t even time for Tony Stark to shout “No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK how i feel about this chapter. but things are starting to happen! Sorry about the timeskips, ik there are a lot! 
> 
> Important note: I'm kind of not doing this canonically, so things are different. For one, there is no captain America civil war (or Ultron for that matter as tony is still using JARVIS, so Tony doesn't know spider-man. Big-shot hero's like the Avengers don't really go to spider-mans part of town that often either, and most of them don't know or have worked with spider-man - thus why tony thought spider-man was a new hero, not a teenager who makes lots of impulse decisions. so idk how much they'll truly be involved in the story, but they're definitely going to be in it!
> 
> also, idk new york, so I'm kinda making up geography lol, sorry


	9. Oh To Be Paid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Peter is trapped, Spider-Man isn't a legally accepted super hero, and he waits for the other shoe to drop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized today that it's the Daily Bugle, not the Morning Bugle. Unfortunately, I don't feel up to changing it, so we'll just have to pretend, sorry. 
> 
> Also, I realize that this is probably very ooc for a lot of everything really, but idk man, just go with the flow ig :).

Peter’s Spidey-sense screamed at him moments before he was trapped. He’d been worried something like this had happened, and he’d done his best to make sure that if anything did happen, the result wasn’t too bad. And it wasn’t. He wasn’t crushed under a pile of rubble, rather, he was crouched under the small space that had been created by the collapsing structure.

He still had a job to do, and after taking a moment to calm his heart rate, he ventured forward. Slowly, of course, hands held out cautiously.

“Hello,” he said, keeping his voice low. He worried if he shouted, the whole structure would fall in. “Can you see me?”

There was no response, so he focused in on his super hearing, trying to determine if there was a heartbeat. Luck (either good or bad) seemed to be with him for now, because he could hear a steady thumping rhythm almost directly in front of him. Briefly, he wished he could see in the dark because that would help him immensely in the pitch black of the rubble, but he had to trust his other senses to lead him to the fallen person.

He stumbled over a few rocks and pebbles on the way, and he felt a sharp pain in his shin where he assumed he snagged a piece of rebar. Eventually, he got to where the heartbeat was loudest and crouched down slowly. He lowered his hands and felt around the ground, letting out a relieved sigh when he felt the body. He didn’t know what kind of state the other person was in. They could be bleeding, or trapped under some rubble, but he had found them.

Peter weighed his options – either wait out with the person until the Hulk or Iron Man came to rescue him or try and get out of the rubble with himself and the unconscious person. While he was sure he could do it by himself, there was no way he could safely extract both himself and the person. So he steadied himself where he was crouched, arms poised to shield the pair of them if anything changed.

Now that he was with the person, he could tune into the sounds that filtered in from the outside. He could hear rocks being chucked and assumed it was the Hulk moving piles to clear the way for Peter, and Iron Man’s voice speaking to the civilians who must still be hovering around the accident.

As Peter waited, he remembered that this was the second explosion, and he didn’t know if there would be more. And because he was trapped, if there were more, he wouldn’t be able to help.

His nervousness and anxiety for the safety of New York increased with every moment he was trapped in the dark.

Then he wondered what time it was because it hadn’t felt that late when he got to the first explosion, but he had no idea what time it was now, or how long the rescuing for both sites had taken.

His thoughts went on pause when he heard shifting in the rocks above him, and saw the green face (though it was still dark so it was more of a dark green/black color) peering down at him.

“Hulk almost there,” the Hulk said.

Minutes later, with assistance from Iron Man now, Peter could see in the little hole they’d been trapped in. Thankfully, the person didn’t seem trapped, and there didn’t seem to be any external bleeding (who knows about inside, but that would be the paramedic's responsibility). Peter’s first thought was to pass the woman (and it was a woman he saw) up through the hold and to the paramedics, but when he saw Iron Man and the Hulk make no move to do that, he rethought that plan. As he’d deduced before, they really didn’t know what kind of injuries the woman had, and moving her might make it worse. The best thing they could do was clear the path and make sure that it was safe for people to access.

Spider-Man however, was free to leave (though he had hesitated until Iron Man told him he needed to leave to make way for the paramedics. He had gone through all this trouble to get to her, he didn’t feel right leaving her. But if _Iron Man_ said so, he supposed he would listen. Just this once)

He emerged from the rubble, swinging his way to a streetlamp that had managed to stay standing despite the destruction, and perched there to watch the scene. The Hulk had backed off, letting paramedics and Iron Man help the woman, and the rest of the civilians seemed like they were taken care of. Peter searched for the boy he had saved, and after locating him in a space blanket and the back of an ambulance, glanced at the rubble again.

Here, it got tricky. He was a vigilante, not a superhero, and while New York was thankful for every life he saved, he was still acting outside the law. And when there were organizations like SHIELD, and superheroes like Iron Man (who got paid, lucky duck), and were actually _welcomed_ in the aftermath of destruction, Peter liked to make himself scarce.

He wished he could stay, and double-check to make sure that the people he saved were fine, and taken care of, but this far into his hero career, he knew it was better if he left while everyone was distracted.

Plus, he had no idea if there was going to be another explosion or anything that night. It wouldn’t be good to be caught up in an interrogation.

A glance at his watch (which did pretty well while he was fighting but wasn’t glow in the dark – annoying and inconvenient, but the only watch he had) had him hissing out a breath. If he booked it and had no stops along the way (such as another freaking explosion (it was like he was waiting for the other foot to drop)) he could probably make it back to his house in time to get an hour of sleep – maybe even two- before school.

He stood on the lamp, thankful for the balance he’d inherited with the bite, and lifted his arms, swinging himself away from the scene. He could feel a stare on his back, and a look over his shoulder had him making eye contact (but was it eye contact when there was a mask over it?) with Iron Man. Peter cursed because in his 3 or so years of being a vigilante, he’d never truly been in a real fight with a legally legitimate superhero, and he hoped that he’d stay anonymous for a while longer. But he had a sinking feeling that he’d be swinging with Iron Man soon, and he knew that that meant nothing but trouble.

The sun was peeking over the horizon when he finally entered his neighborhood, and he slipped into his bedroom silently. He thanked the universe that he had a private bathroom attached to his room, so it was easy to bypass any risk of being in the hallway in his Spidey suit.

Closing the door seemed to drain all the adrenaline that had been keeping him moving right out the soles of his feet. Peter sank to the floor, taking a moment to breathe (shakily – there was no way he’d be normal after all that had happened) before taking off his mask. Scanning his body, he saw nothing too out of the ordinary (superficial cuts and places where he assumed he would bruise later) until he got to his left leg, where he winced.

Doctor’s checkups had him declared caught up on all his vaccines, and the side effects of the spider bite allowed Peter a better immune system than most, made Peter immensely grateful for his Aunt May.

The gash, which he remembered must have been made by rebar was a nasty looking thing. It seemed to ooze blood, and his suit was already stained, something he was not looking forward to repairing. He grabbed some medical tape, gauze, and a washcloth, and slowly started cleaning the wound. It hurt like a motherfucker, and if he were human he’d probably need to be stitched, but it wasn’t the worst injury he’d gotten over the years. Tape to hold it together, and religious cleaning of the wound would allow it to heal over the next day or two. He’d just need to be careful when patrolling and at school.

He stripped off the rest of his suit, putting it under the sink in the bin in the bathroom where he’d take care of it another time, he grabbed the spare pj’s he always kept there and pulled them on. Taking care of the rest of his necessities, he exited the bathroom, set the alarm(s) on his phone, rolled over, and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Peter :(
> 
> In regards to updates, they'll probably be a bit sporadic for a while, school (ugh) and holidays take up many of my waking hours. I'm not sure yet if I'll have a consistent schedule ever, but let's hope I'll update at least once in two weeks. But I'm not sure. We'll just have to see.
> 
> If you're liking it so far, feel free to kudos or comment! Or don't. Whichever you prefer!
> 
> And side note - whenever i go through Grammarly after i write a chapter, i take away like 40 commas, I kid you not. ig i never really learned grammar. (especially : and ;. like, when would one ever use it???? lol)


	10. Fucking Dodgeball

Charles feels a little more confident walking into Midtown his second day. He had people he knew and a more complete map of the school. Finding his first period yesterday was hectic, that’s for sure.

He drops into his seat next to MJ, who’s head is bent over a book, and he’s still a stranger to her, so he doesn’t peek to see which one. Peter and Ned aren’t in the class yet, but there’s a while before class starts, and the classrooms still pretty empty.

Charles looks up when Flash enters the room. Flash strutted in, flanked by people Charles assumed were his friends (cronies really), laughing about something he’s said before entering the room.

Looking back down at his phone, Flash’s presence not important enough to continue watching, Charles waited for the bell to ring. Unfortunately, Flash looked over and spotted Charles. Alone.

He walked over to Charles; a sneer fixed on his face.

“Yo, new kid,” he said, not even pretending to remember Charles’ name. “I saw you hanging with Puny Parker yesterday. Careful there, you might get stuck at the bottom of the social ladder.”

Charles could feel MJ tense beside him, a glare hidden by her hair burning the book in her lap. But she didn’t say anything to Flash.

“I’m sorry,” Charles said, looking up at Flash. “I don’t know anyone named Puny. But if it’s Peter you’re talking about, then I’m sorry, but his company is way better than…” he looked Flash up and down, “yours.” Smiling sweetly, he looked back at his phone, dismissing Flash.

Flash simmered beside him, seemingly at a loss of what to do. Maybe nobody had stood up to him before.

“You…you don’t know who you’re messing with here,” Flash snarled, lurching forward.

“Mr. Thompson,” the teacher's voice rang sharply from the front of the class. “There’s only so much I can excuse only so much in my classroom. You better not be assaulting a classmate in _my_ class.”

Flash halted, arm still outreached to grab Charles’s phone. He retracted it back sullenly, glaring at Charles. He turned to walk away, before pausing and glancing back. “You’ll pay for this…” he glared again, presumably because he was going to say Charles’s last name, but realized he didn’t actually know it. Thank goodness for that, it made Flash look even more constipated as he walked away.

When he took his seat, Charles turned to MJ.

“Why does nobody do anything about Flash?” he asked her.

MJ looked up eyes flitting up to Flash before pausing on Charles’s face. She shrugged, reaching up to push a strand of hair behind her ears.

“Flash is a bully, the whole school knows it, but he’s also a coward. He’d never do anything that would make anyone tattle. The worst thing he’s done is pushed around students in the hallways. It’s fucked up, I know, but it’s high school, and we’ve got a year and a half left.”

“Who’s got a year and a half yet?” Peter asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“All the juniors,” Charles said, hoping Peter hadn’t heard what he was talking with MJ about.

Peter laughed, giving no inclination that he’d heard the previous conversation. “Hell yeah! Then it’s on to college,” Peter sighed wistfully. “I can’t wait for college. My own place, my own curfew. Sounds like heaven.”

The bell rang then, stopping the conversation as the teacher started the class.

…_____...

Charles met Peter in the gym in the back near the bleachers.

“Hey,” Peter said, a smile on his face. “How’s your second day at Midtown going?”

Charles thought of Flash this morning, a bully nobody wanted to stop. “Not that different than my old school. Pecking orders and boring teachers.”

Peter's smile pulled into something more of a smirk, “Oh yeah. For a school of nerds, it’s a pretty ruthless place.”

The teacher called to start class, and everybody who’d been hanging out on the sides of the gym crept closer.

The teacher clapped his hands, “Alright, it’s dodgeball week! You guys seemed to have so much fun yesterday, we’ve extended the unit…” he paused for dramatic effect. “…unless y’all want to run laps instead?”

A loud no! resounded throughout the gym, save for Peter’s yes that Charles only heard because Peter was standing next to him.

Charles glanced at Peter, “You don’t like dodgeball?”

Peter’s face scrunched, a frown appearing. “Not really, no. Too many things flying towards my person is just….no thanks. Plus, it’s violent! Can’t the school do anything else besides throwing balls at people?”

Charles chuckled, “Just get out first, and then you won’t have to play.”

“Yeah, I guess I should do that.” His face lit up, “ _or_ I could go ask to be a ref again like it did yesterday.”

The teacher had dismissed the students to form teams and was standing to the side when Peter sidled up to him. Charles couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from the dejected face Peter was making, Charles assumed the teacher said no.

“He said no,” Peter said, glaring at the floor.

“We should go join a team then before he marks us as not participating,” Charles said.

They joined the team without pennies by chance, which Charles was extremely grateful for. He didn’t know how they’d smell at Midtown, but at his old school, they stank like the socks of a football player. Disgusting.

The game started without a hitch, Peter getting his quickly, flashing a relieved grin at Charles as he walked to the sidelines. Everyone in the class (except for Peter of course) was surprisingly enthusiastic about playing dodgeball, any antisocial tendencies common in teenagers disappearing as balls flew through the air.

Charles’s team won the first game, and everyone joined back in for a second one. Like the first, it started easily. But Charles noticed Flash huddled with his cronies, whispering and pointing towards peter. They each held a ball, and as one, they stood and walked to where Peter was standing listlessly.

He barely had time to shout “Peter!” before they threw the balls. As if by magic, Peter’s head snapped to the side, his eyes widening as he saw the incoming balls. He leaned to the side, letting half of the whizz by his head, and ducking to miss the rest. But Flash was feeling vicious apparently, because he was holding a second ball, and he chucked it at Peter. Peter was distracted, and the ball his leg.

The balls were made of foam, and though there was a smack when they hit a person, they were relatively painless. Or they were supposed to be.

Peter fell to the ground, clutching his calf. “Oh fuck!” he barked, eyes shut tight.

“Language, Mr. Parker,” the teacher's voice rang out, before realizing that Peter was in pain.

Everyone in the gym paused, balls resting in their hands or rolling on the ground as they looked at Peter. A moment passed, and Peter looked up, realizing everyone was looking at him. He laughed nervously.

“Oh, sorry, don’t stop on my account,” he waved his hand and stood slowly, “I just have a bruise and the ball hit it rather hard. Sorry,” and he walked (limped) to the sidelines as if he hadn’t just yelled out in pain because of a foam ball. Slowly, the game started again with only a few glances towards Peter, who looked just as normal as he did before he’d collapsed.

The teacher headed over to where Peter stood, concern etched on his face, but Peter waved him off. Charles let himself get hit, and walked over to Peter too.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Charles said, looking down at Peter’s calf. So far, it looked normal.

“Oh yeah, it’s all good. Just caught me by surprise is all.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Charles said doubtfully.

Moments passed, silent, but not too awkward as they watched the game some more.

Eventually, the majority of both teams were out, and the teacher introduced a new thing into the game. ‘jailbreak’, where the people who were out got to go back in the game.

Calling jailbreak, Peter and Charles walked back onto the court, picking up stray balls that were laying on the ground. Just as Charles was about to chuck his at Flash, Celeste, whose name he only remembered because she was a ref yesterday with Peter, yelled out.

“Holy hell, Peter, you’re bleeding!”

Charles looked at Peter, who didn’t seem to be bleeding. But he followed Peter’s gaze down to his calf where he got hit by Flash, and indeed, there seemed to be a slowly growing patch of blood seeping through his sweatpants.

“Oh, fuck me,” Peter muttered, glaring at his calf at its audacity to be bleeding.

“Peter, I think you’d better go to the nurses’ office and get that taken care of, alright?” the teacher said. “I’ll write you a nurses’ note, and get some gauze so you can halt the bleeding until you get to her office, alright.”

Peter said nothing, practically stomping to the teacher's office.

The rest of the class stared after him, unused to a Peter who showed any emotion besides positive.

The silence was only broken by the slamming of the gym door and Celeste, whose eyes were wide.

“I thought he said it was only a bruise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A) Wow, I'm back, yay! So much has been going on in the world, it's left little time for me to write!. 
> 
> B) i realize that I've made a few errors throughout the story - such as the morning vs daily bugle, and also peter's age. I had him be 16, but i realize that his birthday is in august, and it would make sense for him to be 17 as a junior for the story, and so he'd have gotten a bite at 14 not 13. 
> 
> C) i also realize that this might have some seriously ooc characters, or the plot seems all up and down, but that's okay, it's just a fanfic, and i'm actually having fun writing this, yay!
> 
> anyway, maybe I'll update soon, or it might be in a few weeks, i'm not sure, but it will happen eventually!


	11. A series of unfortunate events

Peter practically snatched the nurse's note out of Mr. P.’s hand, wishing he had patched his leg up better the night before. Or better yet, wishing he didn’t have to play dodgeball in the first place. In truth, the cut didn’t hurt, and he couldn’t really feel it. Thank goodness he didn’t have to pull it up to show it off. Peter’s sure that if he did, Mr. P. would flip out and really make sure he got to the nurse. While the wound was significantly better than it had been the night before, there was still an open wound that _had_ been scabbing over, at least six inches on the side of his calf. Not the worst wound he’d gotten as Spider-Man, but it was turning out to be the most inconvenient.

He entered the gym again, feeling the silent stares of his classmates as he stomped through the gym, slamming the door behind him. With his advanced hearing, he even heard Celeste speak.

 _Damn_ , he didn’t think it was _that_ big of a deal when he’d been hit with the ball. He supposed the blinding flash of pain made him reel for a bit but did the whole class have to stare at him?

Sighing to himself, he glanced at the nurse note. Mr. P. must have been in haste because he hadn’t specified what Peter was being sent to the nurses for. At last, something was going right. He swung (not literally of course) by the locker rooms and changed out of the sweats he wore for the gym, dabbing at his wound with a wet paper towel to try and stop the bleeding.

Making sure he wasn’t going to continue to bleed, he stuffed the bloody sweats into his locker, leaving the locker rooms and heading to the nurse. He’d claim a headache, and maybe be able to sleep until the next period.

Reaching the nurse’s office, he checked his calf again to make sure it wasn’t bleeding, then poked his head in. “Miss Annie?”

The nurse was a tall lady with an open face, who always welcomed him in with a smile. “Peter! Good to see you,” her smile fell a little, “unless you’re not here to say hi, and to report an injury, that is.”

He gave her a sheepish smile in return, “It’s good to see you Miss Annie, sorry to say, but here’s my slip. I think Mr. P. forgot to write why I’m here, too.” Seeing her questioning glance up he added, “A headache. It’s been bugging me all morning.”

Her smile was back, “We’ll that’s an easy fix. Come over to one of the beds here, I’ll get you some water and Advil.”

“Thanks, Miss Annie,” Peter said as he hopped on the cot she gestured to.

When she handed him the pill and water, he drank the water and pretended to take the Advil (he didn’t actually have a headache, so he didn’t need to take the Advil).

The rest of the room was empty, nobody else in the cots, so when Miss Annie went back to her office, Peter relaxed, leaning by to stare at the ceiling.

Unfortunately, relaxing pulls forth memories he usually saves for when he’s home and fresh from patrol. The explosions from the previous nights were unusual, especially since it had attracted the attention of avengers down to his neighborhood. Don’t get him wrong, he was thankful for their help, but they didn’t usually come around this late at night. Then again, they were explosions, and not his everyday robberies and cat-stuck-in-a-tree tasks, so maybe it made sense for them to be there.

But Peter wondered at the timing of the explosions. The new villain, who’d been there when he’d taken down the bank thieves lurked in the back of his mind, and Peter had a feeling he’d been behind the attacks of last night. There wasn’t any proof or anything that connected the strange man to the attacks, but the timing was right. New villain, devastating accident. But it was unusual for villains not to claim their work. Whoever it was, was bad news.

Would there be another attack tonight? Or tomorrow? Or even during the day? Peter could not begin to tell you how many school days he’d had to miss since becoming Spider-Man because of a day-time villain attack. (May could, because she had gotten the calls from the school, but she was a pretty chill aunt, and let him off the hook. Most of the time.)

Peter’s spine crawled with anxiety and nerves. There was no question he’d do everything in his power to stop whoever was behind the explosions, but he could recall the ease in which the new villain had avoided his webs. How had he done it? Teleportation for sure, but Peter was thinking there was more to it. Especially because of those knives. He thought back to what they seemed to be made of… shadows perhaps?

Shadow knives and teleportation.

How fun.

Still, Peter hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the new guy since last week, and despite his suspicions about what the guy had done so far, it was radio silent.

He let out a sigh. If only he had some kind of open communication with high up supers. Then he could try and let them in on the new guy. Unfortunately, Spider-Man was a friendly-neighborhood Spider-Man, not a world-saving super, and high ups rarely gave him the time of day. He’d have to settle for running into them on patrol and seeing if they’d listen to him.

A rustling from Miss Annie’s office shifted his attention over to her.

She left her office and walked over to Peter.

“Is your headache any better?” she asked.

Part of him wished he could lie and say it wasn’t, and maybe she’d allow for him to go home, so he could get an early start on patrolling, but them May would know, and she’d come home and stay with him, and prevent him from patrolling.

“Yeah,” he lied. “I think the Advil really helped.”

She smiled at him, “Alright, it’s almost third period, you think you’re up for going to it?”

There wasn’t really any way to get out of it, so Peter said, “Yep!”

Sure enough, not three minutes later, the piercing sound of the passing bell rang through the halls, signaling the end of class and the start of passing period.

“Thanks, Miss Annie,” he called as he left the nurse's office.

He stopped by his locker, grabbing his backpack that he’d stuffed in there before gym like he always does, and headed to third period. Biochemistry! With any luck, he’d be able to make some more web fluid while his teacher lectured.

Peter stirred his web fluid, half an ear on the lecture Mr. Gregorson was writing on the board. He was in the back of the classroom, and he didn’t have a seat partner, so he could mix the chemicals with relative ease during the class. Peter didn’t need to make the web fluid every day, it lasted for a while, so he could usually get by with making it once every two weeks, three if he was lucky.

He set the beaker down, letting the mixture settle and begin to solidify. Reaching into his backpack, careful to not attract attention from Mr. Gregorson, he pulled out some of his web shooter cartridges, and once the web fluid was solid enough, began to pour them into them.

He was screwing the last one tight and putting the beaker into the sink when he heard it. A subtle shock rippled through the classroom that only he could feel, and a crash as if two large pieces of concrete slammed together. His head whipped up, and Peter looked out the classroom out to the city where he could see the beginning of a cloud of dust start to rise.

He’d been joking earlier when he’d thought about another explosion so soon! There’s no way they set another one off. But the evidence to the contrary was right in front of his eyes. Peter knew he should go, the perpetrator might be there this time, and there were people who needed help.

Looking back to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Gregorson was still obliviously teaching the class. He could feel the beaker in his hand and knowing there was no time to clean up the web fluid remnants, he stuffed the beaker and the stirring stick into his backpack’s side pocket. The rest of the materials could wait in the sink.

Then he stood, clutching his backpack, and started out of the classroom.

He could feel eyes on him, the second time today, and he hated the attention he was drawing to himself.

“Mr. Parker,” Mr. Gregorson started warningly. “Just what-”

“Sorry, sir, I…uh…I’m going to be sick, sorry again,” he stammered out, raising his free hand to his mouth as if he really was going to throw up, and ducked out of the classroom, leaving his teacher and classmates to watch the closing door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh, this was an ok chapter to write, not my fav but not the worst. 
> 
> a lot is happening, and poor peter parker :(. 
> 
> if you're liking the story feel free to give a kudos!


	12. Things that come in thirds spell trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting a lot more angsty than i'd planned lol

Charles knew about the explosions that had shaken the streets earlier this morning. It had been hard to miss with the overabundance of media in his everyday life. His phone, the city, his phone again. He thought about the explosions with the detached gaze of an observer, knowing that they had happened, and damage had been done, but he wasn’t personally invested in them. Plus, they had happened at night when he was in bed. He’d heard about them _after_ everything got resolved.

He was at lunch, looking for Ned and Peter when he glanced at his phone, eyes widening in shock. An alert from his news app showed pictures of a dusty pile of concrete and a building that had collapsed. At first, he’d thought it was pictures of the explosions that had happened the night before, but the time stamps told him otherwise. He scrolled through the hastily written article that didn’t really have any good information about what had actually happened, only an estimated number of casualties.

There was an uncomfortable feeling in his gut, apprehension crawling across his spine. Something was brewing across the horizon, and really, it was almost expected. It had been a year since any major city had had a large-scale attack or invasion, and for New York especially, that was unusual. Charles may be new to the city, but he’s no stranger to the news.

“Charles,” someone shouted, and he glanced up, seeing Ned.

Charles joined Ned and held out his phone for him to see the article?

“Have you heard?” he asked.

Ned nodded somberly, “Yeah, I just read about it. It’s crazy, what’s happening. You’d think there’d be some sort of way for supers or the cops to have figured out who was behind it already. Or that there wouldn’t be another explosion so soon.” Then he frowned. “Have you seen Peter?”

“Not since gym. He went to the nurses because of a cut, but I would think he’d have gone to third period.”

“Alright,” Ned said, but he was still frowning. He pulled out his phone and texted Peter, but when no reply came quickly, he looked back up. Putting on a grin (and it didn’t even seem that forced!) he said, “Looks like it’s just you and me today. It’s strange that Pete’s not here, but he might be doing some work, and once he gets in the mood, it’s hard for him to remember the outside world exists.”

As Charles and Ned walked off, Ned showing Charles to the cafeteria, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that things were changing, and not necessarily for the better.

…_____...

Peter was running out of excuses for why he was missing so much class to tell Aunt May. He could picture her scowl, even as he swung through the city in search of the latest explosion. Her voice was like a needle, pricking him with guilt. Perhaps he could give her the excuse of being sick, and not wanting to bother her work. Surely some guilt-tripping of his own might work.

It was hard, he mused, keeping secrets from people he cared about. But necessary. He knew what happened to supers who were in public. No privacy, for either themselves or their family, and unless they were filthy rich, or had someone rich to back them up, they could fall prey to lawsuits and vengeful villains. He had no billionaire to fall back on or secret hiding places where his location was a secret. No, if people knew he was Spider-Man life as he knew it would be over.

So, he kept his mouth shut about his escapades, no matter how exasperated Aunt May got, or how lonely it was keeping the secret to himself.

He could hear the sirens blocks away from the explosion, and the whirring of a metal suit he assumed was flying. As he drew closer, he slowed down, not wanting to throw himself into the wreckage full throttle. If he was right, and he was hearing Iron Man, there was a good chance there were other big shot supers at the scene as well. Part of him was relieved, this seemed like a lot for him to handle alone, but also nervous. Would he be welcomed? Shunned? Ignored? Would he even make a difference?

He finally rounds on the explosion, thanking his super hearing for the ability to have found it without too much searching. As he suspected, Iron Man was there, as well as the Hulk. Black Widow and Vision too.

“Hey Spidey, are you going to hang back there all day or join in?” Iron Man called out.

The tension that had been setting in between his shoulders loosened at the words. He leaped from his position against the skyscraper across the street, flinging himself closer to the rubble.

“Was that pun intended?” he asked, positioning himself across a lamppost that had miraculously survived the explosion.

Iron Man barked out a laugh, and Peter took a moment to internally scream that he had made _the_ Tony Stark laugh.

“What should I do to help?” Spider-Man followed up. Normally he did things by himself, but in this kind of explosion, especially since it was the third and most likely part of something bigger and more sinister, he was fine taking a backseat and let the older supers take the lead.

“There’s not much, it’s too risky for you to be moving the rubble. You could go to the survivors and help get them sorted and to the ambulances.”

Spider-Man nodded, then webbed himself down to where the people who’d been caught in the explosion were being taken care of. He got himself sorted with the paramedics, who were prepared to use superheroes as an aid for survivors. While Spider-Man may not be well-liked, or popular with people in political power, most citizens of New York knew that he was there to help.

His job was to assist the injured (who didn’t need a stretcher or more important medical attention) to the tent that had been set up for non-emergency patients.

Through his helping of the survivors (i.e. nervous ramblings of people who may have been in shock) and his own personal observations, he gathered that the building that exploded was a law firm. There was supposed to be a big meeting where important people in the company had gathered today to discuss some pretty valuable and confidential things. The meeting hadn’t started yet, and in truth, most of the people who were supposed to be there hadn’t even shown up yet.

But Peter still wondered why this building? And in that train of thought, had the buildings that’d been blown up last night important in any way? Was whoever was behind these attacks purposefully targeting these buildings or were they just trying to cause chaos. Because Peter could tell you they were definitely doing the latter at least.

He was walking next to a man, whose hat was pulled over his eyes, enjoying the silence for a moment. Unlike his previous civilians, this one wasn’t talking his ear off. He normally didn’t mind it, but his Spidey sense had been tingling ever since he’d gotten to the explosion site, and he was a little on edge.

The Spidey sense suddenly flared, and next to him, the man spoke.

“You care an awful lot about people who wouldn’t hesitate to arrest you for your assistance in fighting crimes, Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man turned his head to look at the man. Eyes, cold and calculating, a shade of green he’d never seen before stared back. The man's lips pulled into a smile, though it felt like he didn’t actually know how to grin because it was more teeth than genuine happiness.

“You’re probably wondering who I am,” he continued as if Peter hadn’t frozen beside him in shock. “And, unlike most criminals you meet, I’m not going to tell you. That, you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”

His hand shot out, and Spider-Man was still too stunned to react quickly enough, and the grip the man had burned.

“Let’s keep walking, shall we? Wouldn’t want to hold up the line of course,” he said, pleasantly, as if they were walking in a garden. The grip on Peter’s elbow tightened. “Now, you're probably wanting to ask me if I’m behind all of this, and I hope you’re smart enough to know that I am. You’ll be seeing me a lot more from now on.”

Spider-Man pushed back the shock and forced himself to respond.

“Why are you doing this? What’s the point?” he asked. Then he kicked himself in his brain because for some stupid reason, he was engaging with this dangerous man instead of calling for help. There were four avengers on the scene for goodness sake. But it seemed that whatever had loosened in his throat was back, and he was helpless to do anything but listen.

The man tutted, “Oh, Spidey, that’s so cliché. I’m disappointed. Do you need a reason? Are you not content to assume that I’m here because I’ve lost my mind, or I want power? Because I do, very much. I want to watch people tremble before me; I want to watch powerful people become whimpering little shits that grovel at my feet because they dare to exist.”

Peter could feel a mounting horror set in his chest. He knew now that this man was going to be far more dangerous than he’d previously feared. There was more to what he was telling Peter, but everything he’d already said felt true. And it scared Peter.

He looked away for a moment, unable to look at the man any longer. It took him a moment, which was far too long, for him to realize that he couldn’t hear New York anymore. It took him another to realize that it wasn’t just shady, but that they were surrounded by black, inky darkness that surrounded them like a cocoon.

That’s when he knew he was going to have to get infinitely more prepared before he challenged this guy. Because he wasn’t now, and he was scared of what was going to happen if he tried now.

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice catching in his throat.

The man laughed and it was a cruel sound, “Nowhere in particular. Shadows don’t exist in what you’d call reality. We could be in New York, or Hong Kong, or London, you pick.”

“You can’t keep me in here forever,” Spider-Man said. “People will realize I’m missing.”

“Oh, I don’t plan to,” the man said, and suddenly there were back in New York, the city loud and familiar. They were in the shade of the tent, and a quick glance around told him that nobody had seen them appear? Disappear? Peter didn’t know what they’d done to arrive where they were.

His eyes shifted back to the man, and with a sinking feeling, aided by the lack of Spidey sense, told him that the man was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to comment, give kudos, or just read!
> 
> also I'm writing this an I'm pretty sure it makes sense, but if it doesn't, know that I'm running on little sleep, and i apologize for any mistakes :)


	13. Spider-Man Looks Out for the Little Guy, But Who Looks Out For Him?

Peter stood shakily, his legs trembling at the close encounter. By far, that was the worst experience he’s ever had at the hands of a villain.

Then he had to push it all to the back of his mind, as more civilians were in need of assistance in going towards the medical area. He could figure out what to do later after everyone got to safety.

The next half-hour passed by in a blur, Peter nodding when people spoke to him, a numbness crawling throughout his body. When the last of the people were taken care of, and the clean-up crew was set to work he wandered over to where Iron Man was hovering. Somehow, he had managed to realize that he would actually need help with this Shadow Stalker man, and the Avengers seemed a good place to start.

“Excuse me, Mr. Iron Man sir,” he said, hesitant to speak now that he actually wanted something from the man.

The helmet looked down, glowing eyes giving away no emotions. “Spider-Man,” Iron Man acknowledged.

Peter resisted the urge to wring his hands together as he started talking. “So, a little bit ago I was helping a man, and he seemed normal at first, like any other civilian who’d been shaken by this explosion. But when we were walking but he wasn’t saying anything which I thought was weird – because most people talk to me during this kind of thing – and then he reached out to me and grabbed my arm. I let him do it because my Spider-Sense has kinda been distracting me because of all the danger, ya know, and I didn’t actually mean to do it because he isn’t a good person and I…”

“Woah, slow down there Spidey. What is it you’re trying to say?”

“That man was a villain and the man behind the attack. I’ve seen him before, and I’m not quite sure of what his powers are. Something with shadows I think, because he pulled us into some shadows which was kinda weird, and he can also create like, knives because he threw some at me one time.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me you’ve seen this man before? And he’s the one who did this? And you didn’t tell anyone?”

Peter started to get defensive at the tone Tony was taking. “Hey, it’s not like I had much of an opportunity. I don’t know all his powers, and I was trapped in his shadows for a while. This man is seriously creepy Mr. Iron Man. And there were other civilians after he disappeared. I couldn’t just _not_ help them.”

Iron Man sighed deeply as if he had every right to judge Spider-Man, who he’d barely even talked to.

“Well Spider-Man, if you’d alerted us when you still had him, we could have tried to get him apprehended. Is there anything that might allow us to identify the man if we see him?”

“Green eyes,” Peter said, shuddering at the memory of those eyes, a shade of green just too bright to be anything but toxic. “And he wasn’t very tall or short, kind of average looking. But his eyes were green.

Iron Man released his blasters, coming to rest on the ground. He reached up to pat Peter’s shoulder. “Well, thank you for the help today, we’ll be sure to keep an eye out for a man if we see him.”

Peter had hoped that Iron Man would take him more seriously. He was telling the truth, and he knew in his bones that this man, this _Shadow Stalker_ , was going to bring destruction to the city. Getting prepared to fight against him with different allies was key, but if Iron Man didn’t truly believe him, then Peter didn’t know what he would do.

The wail of an ambulance reminded Peter that this was still an active scene with police officers still around. A time limit on his ability to stick around.

“Please, Mr. Stark, I know what I saw wasn’t much to go off of, but this threat is real. There is something wrong with this man, and his powers are dangerous.” Didn’t Iron Man _care_ that he’d basically been at the crime scene, undetected, and had stolen Spider-Man for minutes without anyone noticing? Wasn’t he worried at all?

“Okay, kid, sure. Just call the Avengers helpline if you need assistance.” Iron Man was already lifting away, heading over to where the Black Widow, Hulk, and Vision were standing around. “See you around, Spider-Man.”

“Ugh!” Spider-Man said, shooting a web to leave the explosion site. A knot of worry lumped in his chest, and he cursed the fact that he was only a high school kid with few resources.

As he swung home, thoughts of Shadow Stalker and Iron Man swirled in his head. He had no way of predicting Shadow Stalker's next move. An explosion? A death? It could be anything. And in turn, he had no way of contacting Iron Man or anyone if anything went south. The knowledge that he was alone was like a beating drum in his head. Peter stopped at the top of the Daily Bugle, letting the sounds of the city wash through him. There was little to be gained worrying over something he had literally no control over. The most he could do was try to prepare for the inevitable next disaster. He took in a breath, breathing in the life of the city, then letting it out, he let out some of his worries, at least temporarily. Sure, come night the fear of the unknown might wash over him, but for now, he could allow himself to relax his shoulders a smidge. He’d already skipped school, might as well patrol for a little bit, delaying his meeting with Aunt May where he’ll attempt to explain why exactly he felt he needed to leave in the middle of third period.

Spider-Man stood at the edge of the building, wind whipping through his suit. Then, a hand shot out, webs flying towards the building across the street, and with barely a sound, Spider-Man flew through the city.

…_____...

Tony flew over to his team, his conversation with the wall-crawler turning over in his mind. He wasn’t that worried, for now. He didn’t quite know who Spider-Man was, sure he’d heard of him ever since he’d started cropping up, but what he defended was so much smaller and off the radar of what Tony cared about, that he hadn’t paid much attention to the bug hero. He was sure this man that Spidey had talked to and interacted with was just some wannabe villain who’d blow up some stuff before getting caught by one of the many superheroes of New York.

For now, he was going to focus on the aftermath of the explosions.

“What’d Spider-Man have to say to you?” Natasha asked when he joined her.

“Oh, just some concerns about the person behind this. He said that the man who was behind the explosions was here and had some powers that had something to do with shadows. Green eyes, average height.”

A concerned look stole across her face, “And he didn’t try to capture this man?”

Tony shook his head. “Seems the man escaped before he had the chance too.”

“Hmm, that sounds concerning,” she said, half to herself.

“I’m sure it’s nothing too bad,” Tony said. “The wall crawlers probably just worried because of the explosions. I don’t think he deals with this kind of stuff that much.”

“He does tend to look after the little guy, doesn’t he.”

Tony looked back at the explosion scene, JARVIS confirming that there was little he could do now. There was the rubble, and people standing by the medical tent, but nothing too concerning.

“Alright team, looks like we’re done. Let’s head out.”

…_____...

Hours after the third explosion, the man Spider-Man had taken to calling Shadow Stalker sat in the basement of his home, watching the news recount the series of explosions that had rocked New York over the past day. A smile stole across his face as each channel he flipped to was full of pictures and interviews and speculations about it.

He hadn’t been in the city long, but his impact would be one to remember. The hero’s New York was so proud of would weep when he was done. There was a reason he’d chosen to target Spider-Man after all, instead of the Avengers.

The way to hurt heroes was to go after those they protected, and in turn, to go after the hero who protected them. Watching the city slowly turn on their hero would be marvelous.

He laughed to himself. He’d better start buying some popcorn, for the show that was going to start would be a movie worth watching.

The door to his home swung open, and he could hear footsteps on the floor. The man stood and walked up the stairs to greet his son.

“Hello, Charles. How was school?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while, sorry. A month actually.
> 
> This is kinda getting more angsty than I'd planned tbh, but we'll roll with it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's given a kudos and commented so far! I really appreciate it! And if you haven't so far, feel free to give a kudos and comment if you like the story!
> 
> P.S. also, apparently one of mistakes i caught before I posted was writing 'street' like 'streeth'. what were my fingers thinking lmao

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I guess I'm going to attempt to make this an actual story, hope y'all like it!


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